


Love and Noses

by ScriptrixDraconum



Series: Steel and Roses [15]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Comfort, Crying, Declarations Of Love, Dorkiness, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Love, Love Confessions, Men Crying, Requited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3679458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScriptrixDraconum/pseuds/ScriptrixDraconum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esmé Cousland is distraught, thinking Alistair no longer desires her. She's very, very wrong. AKA, Esmé and Alistair "dorklare their love for each other" (get it? get it?? wordplay courtesy of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/vitaebenefaria">vitaebenefaria</a>).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Noses

Crying in my tent – that’s what I did for hours after giving Alistair the sword I had found. By the man’s reaction, the weapon had indeed been Duncan’s. After telling Alistair how I felt, I left him to his grief. I shouldn’t have, seeming as how anything could have been lurking around the ruins, but I had sensed no darkspawn. I convinced myself Alistair was fine. Sad, but fine.

Me, I was distraught. Again. Many nights before I had cried myself to sleep, grieving simultaneously for Gilmore and my _whatever_ with Alistair. Whatever. I clutched the necklace Gilmore had given me, wondering if I should finally take it off. Perhaps Alistair knew what it meant to me. Perhaps it was a deterrent. My fingertips edged in on the clasp, but stopped once reaching the side of my neck. No. I couldn’t. Not yet.

I recommenced crying while hugging my rucksack, pretending it was Potato, who had instead taken it upon himself to join Sten and Wynne on their patrol. The fantasized cuddle companion shifted to Alistair. I didn’t have much memory to go by, but I remembered how strong and warm he felt, what he smelled like.

To hold him – that was all I had wanted since we were together by the river. I needed to feel his arms around me, his fingers in my hair, his breath on my cheek. I had ignored these feelings for months; there was no turning back, now. And he did not want me there, with him. _He doesn’t want me there._

The wrenching in my chest was a familiar feeling. Loss of family, loss of love, and now this. Whatever _this_ was. _He doesn’t want me_. Sobbing quietly, I pounded a fist against the tent floor. Again. Again.

Someone cleared their throat nearby. Startled, with a gasp I jerked toward the sound, sitting up and absentmindedly wiping my face clean of tears. With the aid of my lantern I saw two fingers prying open my tent’s flaps, creating a tiny window for a single, sad hazel eye.

“Alistair?” I croaked, clearing my throat after.

“Are you going to hit me if I come in?” His tone was serious, though I wasn’t sure why he thought it probable that I would actually hit him. Well, more than a playful smack, anyway.

Wiping my face again, I answered, “No, of course not,” and waved him a welcome.

Once inside, Alistair tied the tent flaps together. Though unclear from the dancing flame of my lantern, I could have sworn his hands were shaking. Alistair turned, and it became immediately obvious that he, too, had been crying.

With fluid movements, he crawled his way to me, and his hands flew to my face. Palms cupping my cheeks, his thumbs rubbed gentle arcs, wiping away the tears that still trickled down.

“Why are you crying?” he asked. Voice soft and low, eyes sparkling and palms sweaty, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to know the answer. He wasn’t sure of anything, I gathered.

I responded, voice quavering, “Why were _you_ crying?”

His near-smile fell into a deep frown.

 _Oh, no, Esmé. You and your stupid mouth._ I wanted to say something. Anything. _Anything_ to keep this man from ever frowning again. “I-I’m, I don’t—“

Alistair’s chapped lips cut off my stumbling words. He pressed into me, and urged me to lie back down. Through his slow grinding against me, I could feel him trembling, his body and hands. Small sounds tremored against my mouth. Fresh tears dampened my cheeks. My hands found their way to his coiffed hair and my fingers dug in, holding the man to me.

A whine crept up from him, breaking our embrace. Alistair pressed himself up by his elbows, and that same pained face hovered over mine. He was wearing only his hide underarmor leggings again, and I was in my smallclothes. His interest was not easily hidden, but Alistair had stopped, reining himself in.

I mirrored his earlier motions, wiping his cheeks dry. His brow remained furrowed, and tears welled against his lower eyelids. Acting as if the man had a tress of hair in his face, I smoothed my fingers from his temple to behind his ear, continuing the path with my fingernails down the length of his strong jaw, and ending with my thumb pressed against his little blonde diamond-shaped patch of beard. My thumb and forefinger held his chin, then, and I offered him a small smile, hoping to encourage him to speak his mind.

My heart lifted when his lips finally twitched up, albeit slightly.

“I’m in love with you,” he murmured. The words were tentative, barely over whisper, and his mouth again settled into a frown.

I ran the pad of my thumb over his rough lips. “Why are you frowning?”

“Be–cause…,” he looked down and away from me and closed his eyes. He inhaled through his nose, held his breath, and upon opening his eyes, exhaled slowly. He then turned back to me.

“Whenever…,” he shook his head, but continued. “Whenever I think about you, everything stops making sense because my mind is just… clouded by all the things I want to say to you but never have. And I’ve wanted to say a lot of things… for… a while. A long, long while. I had everything planned out, like a story, like chants waiting to be recited…. But then the _Fade_ happened and….” Alistair sighed. “We kissed. I got angry. I shouldn’t have, I know I shouldn’t have. But I was angry because I wanted it, the kiss, for everything to be perfect for you because you _are_ perfection.”

I began to speak, to protest his proclamation of me being _perfect_ , but Alistair cut me off.

“I love you,” he declared, voice no longer unsteady but adamant. “From the moment we met, between the size of your _barbaric_ sword, your terrifying gumption,” he added with a laugh, “and your angry, sarcastic words veiling the pain I saw in your eyes, I loved you.” He shifted his position somewhat, placing more weight on a different arm and sweeping the other forward for his palm to cup my cheek. His fingers traced the design of my tattoo. “I love how courageous you are, that you’re… daring enough to get a tattoo on your _face_ and be the first to raise your sword against an enemy.” His weight was fully balanced me and his elbows as his other hand joined in holding my head, assuring I would not look away.

He smiled. “I love that you’re practical and shrewd, and that you’re far braver than I could ever be… because one of us has to be brave.” His mouth turned up with the hint of a smirk. “I love that you take command and that no one questions it. Except for Morrigan. She doesn’t count.” It was my turn to crack a smile.

“The way you handle yourself in battle,” he continued. “The way you carry yourself. The fact that you _hate_ dresses and that you named your dog Potato.” We laughed. “ _Potato!_ ” I laughed harder. “I love that you smell like metal and pine… _all_ the time.”

“That’s just,” I chuckled, “I use pine-scented soap.”

“I can’t walk through a forest without thinking of you, of holding you and… doing… things.” Alistair’s thumbs caressed my cheeks again; his gaze intensified. “I love your eyes. Your forest eyes. I love that your hair glows like a fire and that you wear it in a short ponytail because otherwise it would be in your face and we can’t have that, can we?” We laughed again, and he kissed my cheek. “Your lovely, practical, _barbaric_ face.”

I was beginning to cry, but Alistair kissed my closed eyelids, each in turn, before continuing. “And I say all of these things now because I have missed all other opportunities to say them and I never, ever want anything more to go unsaid between us. And it’s true. I wanted my first time to be special. I wanted pillows and candles and moonlight serenades but I wanted that because of _you_. I never cared about any of that before I met you. I was happy so long as I had friends and cheese and exercise to keep me occupied but then _you_ came along and ruined my blissful solitude.”

“Alistair….”

“I _never_ want to be without you. Not for as long as I live. I’m scared this Blight will end and you will leave and then I’ll never feel again the way I feel when I’m with you, and that _terrifies_ me.” The well of tears in his left eye overflowed, but I wiped the wetness away. “I’m sorry I left you that night by the river. I’ll never forgive myself for that… for wasting the last two weeks brooding over something I thought I lost.” Alistair shook his head. “I never lost a thing. I had you. I _have_ you.  And whatever happens, we will always have that night. I don’t want to forget it. I don’t want to forget _you_. None of it. Not ever. I love you. I can’t say it enough; it will never be enough. I love you. I lo—“

I pulled him down, and pressed his lips to mine, briefly. Pushing him back up, I readied myself to speak my own mind.

“I love your nose,” I blurted. I couldn’t help it – his lovely, long nose was brushing against mine.

“My nose?”

“Your nose. It’s a wonderful nose.” I grinned. “I love that you care more about your hair than even Leliana cares for hers.”

“Who do you think gave me styling tips?”

We laughed.

“I love that you’re strong, _so_ strong,” I gripped his biceps, giving them a squeeze, “but that you’re too humble to see just how brave you really are.”

Alistair began to protest. “I’m not—“

“You are. I love watching you fight. I love watching you smile.” As I spoke, I ran my fingers through his strawberry blonde tufts, winning a closed-eyed grin from the man. I chuckled, and he kissed the underside of both my wrists as I continued.

“I love how you want everything to be perfect, even if that drives me crazy, too. _You_ drive me crazy. But all of your joking, all the times you made me laugh – even if I did not want to laugh – I… I adore it. I adore you. Particularly….” I gazed up at him, fighting back more tears.

“My nose?”

I laughed. “Yes, your nose.” I swept a hand over his hair, mussing the fluff atop his head. “But really, I love… the way you make me feel. The way you make me feel about myself. I didn’t think I could—“ I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I didn’t think I could feel this again, for anyone else. And it scares me. To lose you, too….” I was crying again. Alistair, too, looked close to tears. I kissed him, and cradled his face between my hands. Peering up at him, I whispered, “I couldn’t bear it.”

Alistair let himself fall flush against me, claiming my lips with his. My arms wrapped around his shoulders. His hands gripped the flesh of my face a little too rough, fingernails pressing in too deep. A muffled cry vibrated against my lips and our embrace tightened. I felt Alistair’s excitement build, and moaned as he pushed himself against me. He broke our kiss; we were both left speechless for a time. A moment later, Alistair kissed my cheek, and then buried his face in the crook of my neck.

“Stay with me tonight?” I asked, pleading. I knew that even if Alistair wasn’t ready for sex, I needed him with me. I needed him with me, always. I moaned when his mouth sucked at the flesh above my collarbone.

And then, as he recentered himself above me, his ardent kiss was his reply.


End file.
